The Warmth of Hazel
by feral emotion
Summary: He wanted to hear something real, a sliver of truth before he put his humanity on hold. Her mouth twitched up before she focused on him. "You want to hear something real? I'm scared, terrified." She paused, the small smile vanishing. "I don't wanna die." Her answer made him uncomfortable.
1. Bitter Taste of Fear

**_A/N:_ **I've decided to give my shot at a Cato story. When it came down to it, I couldn't decide if I wanted Fawn to be from 4 or 10. But, since I live in Texas (And I imagine 10, being a livestock production type, would be around the Texas, Arizona, and even Oklahoma area) I just went with 10. I'm excited for this, and have a basic plot in mind but I have a question to all of my readers that you can answer, hopefully, in some reviews.

Would you like to have Katniss and Peeta in this story, or for me to make it a lot more AU than it already is? Oh, and what does everyone think; does this have any potential in your minds?

That out of the way, I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, I don't have a Beta and I always seem to miss one thing or another. I believe that's all of my ramblings I have for you today, on with the fanfiction! **_DISCLAIMER: _**The Hunger Games trilogy, characters, and themes are all the work of Suzanne Collins. All OC's however, are owned by me.

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_**Chapter One: Bitter Taste of Fear**_

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The soft bellowing of the cattle and the muted clopping of the horses were the only sounds that permeated the air on the early weekday morning. The sun was just beginning to heat the earth, its rays pounding on my back and making what little bit of moisture that had settled down on the crisp, yellow grass evaporate into the hot air. We were in a yearly dry spell, one that always came in the heat of the summer, and the entirety of the district was beginning to feel the strain. The decrease in water rations, the way the crops that people, sometimes illegally, grew were slowly withering away to crumbling weeds, and the most fearsome; the predators of the rough southern terrain were beginning to grow bolder in search of quick meals.

The Hazelwood Ranch, my family's ranch, had been lucky so far. We had yet to have a casualty with our livestock, but some of the other owners hadn't been so fortunate, and the peacekeepers certainly weren't lenient on the matter. If the monthly head count didn't add up, there was an immediate demand of payment; if there was no money to be given then tesserae, or public punishment were the only other options. I shuddered to think about either one being placed on my families shoulders. We weren't the richest, we weren't the poorest; we were in the middle. We lived comfortably, though just barely, with enough to support us, our five horses, and the shepherd dog that guarded the small chicken coop we had. But if we were faced with just one missing steer, either Jonas or I would have to sign up for the resentful tokens, and knowing my older brother he would refuse to allow me to do it.

At least this was Jonas' last year; I on the other hand had two more to go until I was safe from the annual reaping that was only one day away. The week prior to the beginning of the games was always nerve wracking for me, even though there were many others that probably had a lot more of the little white slips in the glass bowl then me. Logically, the odds were in my favor. None of our family had ever been chosen, a list that included my father, his brother and sister, my cousins, my older twin brothers, and of course, Jonas and myself. The family good fortune and the statistics were on my side, but that sound knowledge still wasn't enough to rid me of the icy fear that had taken spot in my gut.

Beneath me, Bravo gave a low snort and faltered on his walk to shift around on the sandy soil of the ravine we were traveling in, no doubt picking up the nervous tension I was exhibiting. I shushed him and gently pulled my fingers through his glossy black mane that lay in contrast to his gray and white coat. Almost unconsciously I pulled a lock and flattened it on the other side of his arched neck, smoothing the slightly mused hair down with my fingertips. It was something familiar. Putting my immediate thoughts back into my job of scouting the ravine for stragglers from our herd, I nudged Bravo in his side to make him pick up the pace. The high strung paint obliged by braking into a quick trot, dodging around the occasional shrub with a practiced cow horse ease.

It was about ten minutes into the ride when she came across one of the young castrated males that we raised for slaughter. The red steer, fat and healthy with the feed that the capitol provided, was rubbing his polled head against a small dead tree that's branches resembled old, gnarled hands. As Bravo's heavy hooves hit the ground, the bovine jerked its head up to stare at us in weariness, his front legs slightly parted in anticipation for the chase that would commence. My steed was a seasoned ten year old, used to the wiles of the cattle, so when my hands loosened on the lovingly worn split reins to give him his head and my heels went into his sensitive sides he went on his back end in preparation and shot off.

The rest was child's play; staying on the steer's tail and making sure he didn't try and double back, which would only make my job longer. I only ran into one more, at the near end of the ravine where the ground became less steep again and would allow Bravo and me to climb out. The youthful reds bucked about while coming up as they hurried to reach the herd that was close by, being pushed along by Colt, Clay, and my dad. Jonas, like me, was made to scout along the fringes of the pasture for any steer that had been separated. With all the coyote packs sprouting up and the mountain lion sightings, dad had felt it necessary to move the cattle to the smaller pasture that wrapped around our old, wooden and brick farmhouse; well, more wood than brick. It held three rooms, a small kitchen, and an even smaller washroom. It was cramped, the twins had never moved out because of the work that fell onto their shoulders which left me having to share a room with Jonas my whole life, but it was home.

I puckered my lips and whistled, letting them know I was near, before kicking Bravo into a gallop. The two that I had chased out of the ravine melded in with their kin as I was sitting back to pull my horse up alongside Levi, my father, on his long legged dapple gray, Willow. His chapped lips pulled up into a smile, the crow's feet that followed the contours of his eyes becoming more pronounced. His face was weathered and tired, but comforting as he reached out to squeeze my knee in affection. "That's my girl. Now go down toward the house and get the gate opened, will ya Fawn?"

"Yes daddy." I murmured, sitting back in the old leather saddle to spin Bravo around and set him off in the direction of the house. It would be different to have the herd in the actual yard, no matter how big it was, but I'm pretty sure that Cheza would keep them well away from the house and coop. Wisps of dirt flew up to swirl around my legs as we rode, the wind whipping and pulling through the sloppy ponytail I had made earlier until it no doubt resembled that of an actual horse tail. I didn't give that much thought though, my mind too focused on the freedom I got when running on a horse. There wasn't anything like it, nothing that could truly compare. It even gave me relief from the anxiety I had of the upcoming day. It was a short break, one that was over much too soon when the long metal gate that led to the outer yard came into view, but it was a much needed pause for my fear.

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On any other night, the lowing of the cattle, the chirping of the crickets and even the hooting of the owls would have been a brilliant lullaby. Something that would have sent me off with pleasant dreams of the beautiful meadows that lay to the east of the district, wildflowers growing along the tall grass with the barely audible trickle of a stream nearby. But it didn't bring me peace tonight. Every little sound had me on edge, and what little respite I had from my inexplicable worry while working was gone. I had given up my internal mantras of _'worrying is illogical, you won't be picked Fawn, it's gonna be some other poor soul Fawn…'_ It did nothing but give me a headache.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye to the sleeping Jonas. He hadn't moved in an hour or two and was stretched out comfortably on his side, his light snores filling our room. He may have appeared completely out of it, but I knew that he was a light sleeper. I took care to slowly slide my light sheet off before cautiously walking towards our slightly cracked door on the balls of my feet. Dad didn't like it when I ventured out late at night, I'm pretty sure none of my brothers did either. I knew by trial and error that if pulled too far open the hinges would give a loud squeak, but if I pressed by back flush against the wall I could slip out practically undetected.

I didn't bother with any boots; the dirt was free of stickers and felt good underneath my feet. Cheza looked up from her bed as I walked onto the wooden porch, her black and white tail thumping on the ground. It was just a blanket, one of my old ones from when I was a baby I believe. It used to be pink, with smooth edges, but now it looked gray and ragged. I made a mental note to wash it sometime during the week. _'That's right!'_, my mind cried _'You'll wash it later because you'll still be here, ya worry wart.'_

I shook off the unease that followed that statement and quietly walked down the steps, along the spots that didn't creak. There was an old log that was a perfect sitting spot to the left of the house, the ideal place to think. I was so used to navigating for it that I didn't even need the light of the full moon. In the distance near the fence line I caught sight of some of the steers, and much closer was the form of Clay's horse Trace, his champagne coat looking silver in the moonlight. He moved away as I got closer, snorting softly and searching the ground for sprigs of grass. The worn wood of the log gave a soft thumping sound as I casually drummed my fingers; it was a pleasant background noise to the suddenly still air.

For a few minutes it was just me and my thoughts but after a few crackles from the earth I sighed in the realization that I had been followed. I turned my head to catch the side profile of Jonas as he dropped himself on the log at my side. He was a handsome youth and favored our mother more so than our father, at least that's what he said and I agreed when seeing the few pictures we had of her. She had died when I was five, and over time her face had become less and less clear in my mind; there was blonde hair, much lighter than Jonas' (his was more brown than blonde), a bright smile and startling green eyes. Yes, Jonas had her smile but his eyes were a more olive color.

"So I guess I wasn't as quite as I thought I was?" I offered in an attempt to break the heavy silence that settled over us like a thick, wooly blanket. He half turned, leaning over to place one elbow on his knee as the corner of one eye became clear past his tangled, shoulder length dirty blonde hair. Despite the intensity in my big brother's posture, the small quirk of his lips was enough to put me at ease, if only slightly.

"You were, I just wasn't in too deep a sleep." He murmured, his soft southern twang that still held a drowsy edge bringing comfort. Normality. The light conversation didn't last long though, as my brother quickly got down to business. "You still twitchy 'bout tomorrow?" I swallowed, and jerked my head in a nod, the jumbling torrent back with a vengeance. I guess I really was, as he put it, twitchy. Sighing, and reaching up to rub his face with a slightly dirty hand and throwing the other arm around my shoulders Jonas straightened and looked down at me with a sort of brotherly condescending affection. I didn't realize it was possible for all of that to be presented with one look, but he did it.

"Look Fawn, say that the near impossible does happen and one of us get reaped…" He immediately trailed off and gave a sort of apologizing grimace before rapping his knuckles against the wood several times. "God forbid… Anyway, you know how to take care of yourself, so do I. You know your way with a bullwhip damn near better than most of the peacekeepers, you're decent with a knife, and you got a helluva lot to live for." It wasn't meant to be a pep talk, it was meant to soothe me from unnecessary stress, even though he pulled the truth a bit on the last part. I was good with whip tricks, but my knife skills were only about aim, which didn't seem enough to actually take the life of another. That took a lot more than just a steady hand.

My brother went silent, and gently patted my shoulder with the arm that was still tossed over them. Comforting. I turned my head towards him a bit more, trying to stop the idiotic burning sensation that was beginning to prickle at my eyes. "I know it seems stupid, I just can't help it."

"You're overly sensitive." He said blandly, but dropped down to place a quick kiss on my forehead. "Don't worry sis, you'll toughen up eventually. I cried a lot when I was little too." Just like that, the heavy was gone and he was teasing me like only a brother could. I leaned out of his one sided embrace and stood up and was instantly looking up toward him as he stood as well. I came up to his neck, and when we were this close I was forced to have to tilt my head to actually meet his eyes.

"Thanks, Jonas." I said, not minding as he resumed his previous position of tossing his arm over my shoulders to walk me back into the house.

"Anytime Fawn." He said, turning sharply as a high pitched howl resonated from the prairie. I saw him scowl and in such a rush to usher me up the steps we hit a squeaking spot on the rickety old stairs. We both flinched from the sound, and walked cautiously toward our room. It was awkward to share one, but it was also something that was unavoidable. At least until the twins decided if they truly would build a shack outside the house to hold the two of them, giving each of us our own room. But at the moment that was all it was, eager talk.

I slid into my sheet for the second time that night, stretching out on my side and surprisingly feeling better than I previously had. I had almost drifted off when Jonas' voice came from his side of the room. He had went out of his way to help me sleep, and now he was keeping me up? I turned over to face him, bleary eyed and sleepy to respond with a rather unintelligent "huh?"

"I said don't go out anymore, please. It'd be our luck for you to get attacked by a coyote, or worse." Oh, right. The wild animals were getting cocky, the wilderness becoming more brutal. It was plausible for one to come into the yard, bypass the chickens and cows and head straight for me. Unlikely, but plausible. I mumbled an agreement, turned back over to let sleep claim me.

Jonas had left our room a few moments ago, leaving the one mirror we had on his bed for me. Living comfortably didn't mean having luxury items. The mirror had a silver handle and was medium sized. The silver was slightly rusty, even though our father made a point to clean it as much as he could afford. It was an heirloom from my mom's side of the family and wasn't exactly clear to look through anymore, but it was sentimental and better than having to look at water for a murky reflection. I had already bathed and dressed. We rode horseback to the town Justice Building, a good hour to an hour and a half ride, which meant that skirts or dresses were out of the picture. A clean pair of jeans and a nice pale cream blouse that my mother owned were the extent of my dressiest. That was left to the girls that lived closer to town.

Near the mirror was the brush I shared with Jonas, suited more for our longer hair. He refused to cut it, no matter how much our older brothers liked to hassle him. I ran it through my damp mane before pulling the mass of brown tresses over my shoulder to put it into a single braid. Finally, I reached for the mirror to stare into my profile. Dad said that even with dark hair, I looked a lot like mom, more so than Jonas. My face was more ovular than round, but not long. My cheeks were free of baby fat at sixteen, but still held a soft unpronounced appeal. And then there were my eyes. The right green and the left blue, something that had put me on the receiving end of both adoring praise and merciless jokes. At the moment, both of them were filled with clear apprehension and my jaw refused to unclench.

I closed my eyes and set the mirror back on the bed, letting a shaky breath out through my nose. _'Just calm down, Fawn. Everything's going to be alright, everything will be alright.'_

A swift knock on the door and a shout made me jump. "Come on little sister, we gotta go!" It was Colt, the older twin by two minutes. I'm positive the only reason I could tell my brothers apart was a sixth sense on which was which, most likely coming from being around them all my life. They were identical; the same muscular profile, strong and prominent jaw, high cheekbones, soulful chestnut eyes that matched our fathers and a poetic face that had all the young belles dropping to the ground in their reverence. Too bad they couldn't see just how utterly annoying the idiots could be.

We were only taking three horses, much to Clay's chagrin who would have to ride with Colt on Redman. I didn't mind riding with Jonas' on Dane, the big dapple gray that was the son of Willow and Trace had a long smooth stride. I sat with one hand on my brother's shoulder and the other gripping the hard leather of the western saddle. It was quiet on the ride; I didn't know if that helped or worsened my anxiety but I was on edge enough to jump from the call of a hawk in the sky. Dane shifted on his hooves uncomfortably from the movement, making Jonas sigh and tilt his head back so I could see the side of his face. "Relax back there, Fawn. You're making Dane as twitchy as you are."

Dad turned Willow to get closer, and much like yesterday he reached out my knee and squeezed it. "It's going to be fine, baby girl. Everything will be fine." _Everything will be fine._ I'm sure I had to make them all antsy with how much I let everything hang over me, which no doubt hung over them just as bad. After that I tried to keep my expression and mannerisms neutral.

Clay took Dane's reins as Jonas and I went to separate lines to be registered. The fifth time the quick needle punctured my fingertip for a dab of identification blood. The fifth time where I was faced with the unnatural and wrong feeling of being herded with my fellow district kids like cattle to the semi sections for gender and age group. I ran the conversation with my brother last night through my head, the soft pats and words from the twins as they tried to brighten up the dreary morning before Jonas and I got ready, and my father's calming presence and gentle way of showing affection. Both statistics and family luck were on my side, the odds _were_ in my favor.

As the heavy tapping of Olivia Wiles heeled boots swept over the crowd, shushing them, I thought of why, just _why_ I was always terrified of this time, so overly skittish. I think it went to the most basic concept of helplessness. Now, on this day for the past five years, was the one day where I was completely powerless, at the utmost mercy of the heavy reign of the capitol. I was an emotional person, whether its hate, fear, anger, or that deep rooted feeling of being helpless I felt it on a large scale. I couldn't shut off like I know my brothers and father could, like so many others. I didn't like being over emotional, I loathed not being in control of my own life. I felt a heavy stare, my senses working through my internal brooding, and when I turned I saw Jonas, standing out from all the others. He nodded, his lips gave a quick smile and then he turned to face the stage.

'_It's going to be fine. We'll be fine.'_ I focused on Olivia's voice as she praised the short film that had just been shown. I hadn't paid attention, I already knew what the depressing clip had to offer. Our district escort, the escort for the past couple of years, was dressed just as ridiculous as ever. Her boots were the showy, unworkable type and in an unattractive shade of brown. Her skirt was white with big splotches of the same shade of brown, a shirt with poufy sleeves holding the same pattern as well as a dark denim vest completed her assemble. She had bright blonde hair that was long, big and extremely curled with makeup that, I guessed, was designed to make her appear like a true southern belle. All in all, it wasn't the most pleasing to look at.

"Now," She cried, clasping her hands together and looking much too excited, "Let's get on to the fun part. I know that in the south, chivalry deems that the ladies go first, but I want to change it up a bit!" She giggled and strutted toward the right side where a large glass bowl that held the boy's names sat. I tensed, as did nearly everyone else as her eager fingers swept around, her long red nails teasing the white slips until she finally latched onto one and pulled with a flourish. With a deliberate slowness she flipped it open and read in a clear and too chirpy voice. "Jackson Hayne."

I actually knew Jackson; he was eighteen and a friend of Jonas. He always said to be careful around his charming ways, but he had been nothing but nice in the few years I had known him, possibly only because of Jonas himself. He was handsome in a very devilish way with short black hair that held a subtle wave, steel gray eyes and dimpled chin. He didn't look scared, but composed as he made his way to the stairs and stage. I was sorry that he had been chosen, the past couple of years it had been people that I didn't know. But as I once again caught the stare of my brother, the plaguing fear that had refused to leave slowly resided. He smiled a sad smile my way, and dipped his head. _'It was going to be fine.'_

In that short lived relief I sighed out, not even bothering to give Olivia my undivided attention as she moved her fingers over the girl's slips on the opposite side of the stage. I naively relaxed. My brother was safe, safe for _good_ and I was fine for another year. It was all going to be okay.

"Fawn Hazelwood." My limbs locked together, my hands trembled, and my jaw locked on me so hard that it was immediately followed by the metallic taste of my blood. I don't know how I could bleed, when it felt like all of my life's blood was pounding in my ears. "Come on up, wherever you are." Olivia called again, this time her voice was followed by a solid push by a girl behind me. I didn't stumble, but I finally regained motor function. My actions felt jerky as I walked to the stage, the escort's smile did little to put me at ease but I did accept her hand as she pulled me up and to the mike by Jackson. My gaze zeroed in on Jonas as he looked on with wide, scared eyes. I don't think I had ever seen him look so terrified… so shocked. The blood rushing through my veins, the only sound I had been really focusing on slipped away as he stepped forward. No! He couldn't interfere, he'd be punished! Thankfully hands and arms stopped him, just as Olivia stepped beside me and my district partner.

"I give you the district ten tributes to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!" Her announcement was followed by her applause that awkwardly stopped when it was met with silence. Jonas' friends had him, thankfully, subdued. Looking a little put out Olivia placed her hand on my and Jackson's shoulders. "Go on then, shake hands."

I tore my eyes away from the crowd, my district to stare up into the flat gray eyes that I had grown to know. I swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise and hesitantly reached my hand out to him. He accepted the shake gently, almost reassuringly. One corner of his lip twitched up, and the mask behind the gunmetal gray dissolved to reveal sympathy. I think he may have even whispered my name, I wasn't sure because the next thing I realized was the urgent grip of a peacekeeper as he led me to a nearly barren room with plain, dull brown walls and a single leather couch. "Three minutes."

Three minutes? That's all I got to see my family, three minutes. Jonas was the first to barge in, quickly followed by my father and the twins. I was swept into arms, different pairs before the shock wore off and tears began to flow. This could be the last time I could see them, all of them. No Fawn, don't cry. Dammit, don't cry!

"Listen to me!" My dad said forcefully. He had been talking. I looked up into his watering brown eyes as he wiped away the wet, hot trails that had been on my cheeks. "Listen here, Fawn. You can do this, you _have_ to do this. Here me? You're gonna come home, baby girl, you're gonna come home." I don't remember ever seeing Levi, my loving but stern father, so emotionally raw.

"O-okay." I finally stuttered out, just trying to agree with him. I realized that the arms that were still around me were the twins. They were bent at the knees to hug me from the sides.

"She will pop." Clay murmured, his own eyes tearing up as he gripped my left shoulder.

"She's strong." Colt said, echoing his brother's quiet tone. "She's a Hazelwood." With my own hands I reached up to squeeze there's managing a small smile to the both of them.

Then it was Jonas hugging me hard. "I'm sorry Fawn, I'm so sorry." He whispered, giving me a quick kiss on the temple before he stepped away. Their words were what I needed, no matter how little was said. They, besides Jonas on occasion, never really shared my over sentimental tendencies. It was foreign to them, so the next minute was spent in silence as I gave each of them their own embrace, possibly the last they would ever get from me. All too soon they were being forced out, ripped from me by the careless peacekeepers. I got one last kiss on my forehead from my father, and Jonas' loud voice shouted "Bullwhip, get a whip!" and then they were gone.

It was silent, so silent in the room after they left. The previous night I didn't want to hear all the noises that home, _home_, had to offer. Now I would give anything to hear the soft barks of Cheza, I would probably never get to wash her old blanket. I wished I could hear a whinny of a horse, the whistle of the wind, even the annoying cricket's song. Anything. But I was met with silence, and the tears began to fall again.


	2. Wet Stains on a Pillowcase

_****_Damn, I'm sorry for the lack of updating guys. I don't have an excuse, and to be honest I may just rewrite this chapter because it's not up to the caliber of what I wanted. It's also more of a filler, but don't fret because the next chapter will have Cato. I promise.

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_**Chapter Two: Wet Stains on a Pillowcase**_

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I think Jackson wanted to say something. He had been silent on the car ride to the train station while Olivia was carrying on about all the delights the capitol would soon shower over us. I had never been in a vehicle; I'm pretty sure only the victors of our district were exposed to them. After Olivia had chided me on my red, glistening eyes she had jumped onto topics that I had never given much thought. Things such as hot running water, all the food you can eat, scented fragrances in which to bathe, and the best style of clothes you could ever hope for. Eventually my district partner had just dropped the charade of listening to stare out one of the windows. I was left to nod politely, and try to regain control over my breathing.

As soon as our escort had set us down, she had waltzed away saying she would fetch our mentor, Ambrose Hardin the victor of the 61st games, before she went to tidy up for the reaping recap. Now that we were alone he kept on tensing up, taking a breath before slowly releasing it and then clenching his fists until his knuckles were white in comparison to his bronze skin. I had known Jackson Hayne for nearly four years because of his close friendship with my brother. He would often come to our house on his pale gray horse Ghost, helping out when needed or just sitting on the porch. Jonas left for his home just as much; a few times even I had followed along. He had never been a silent person, and I sincerely hoped that he got over whatever was plaguing his mind. Even if it was for just a few more days, I wanted a friend.

_What do you expect from him, Fawn? He's in the games with one of his friends' sister. That's enough to make the situation awkward._ The voice was internal, a tinkling sound running through my subconscious. It was right. I refrained from pressing him like I wanted to. So for the next two minutes it was the same thing; Jackson's eyes darting down to the side of my face, me keeping my eyes trained forward and feigning obliviousness, a sharp intake of air and then nothing. Finally, I saw his mouth fixing to open but it slammed shut when the sliding door Olivia disappeared through slid open to reveal a tall and lean figure. Whatever Jackson had wanted to say would have to wait for later.

I had seen Ambrose a few times in the past; he was a rugged cowboy handsome with dark gold skin, bright hazel eyes and golden stubble that complimented his thick shag. He had been a favorite because of his cocky, devil-may-care attitude. He had won because of his skill with long range weapons. He assessed us as he walked forward, his eyes going over me and then Jackson. The scrutiny didn't stop until he flopped down into the high class cushioned seat across from us, his head tilted to take in every feature. When he finally did speak, it was in a whiskey intensified husky voice, even though he didn't appear to be drunk. "Olivia said you kids were easy on the eyes. That's good, the capitol likes pretty things."

The way he said it made me uncomfortable. He must have read the emotion on my face because he chuckled and leaned his temple against an outstretched finger. "Don't like the sound of that, do you? Sorry to say you're gonna have to get used to it. You ain't nothin' but a pawn in a power trip now."

Jackson made a sound in the back of his throat and agitatedly shifted in his seat. Ambrose smirked and waved his hand in the air in a placating gesture. "Oh, calm down. It's not like you didn't know already. So sweetheart, what's your name? How old are ya?" I figured that he would already know our names, but I responded anyway.

"Fawn Hazelwood, and I'm sixteen." The tremors in my voice had faded away during the car ride, but the tone was still raspy; a clear sign that I had been bawling my eyes out, as if the puffiness of my lids weren't a big enough clue.

Ambrose nodded and looked toward my district partner. "And what about you, pretty boy?"

Jackson ground his teeth against each other in aggravation before answering in a steely tone. "Jackson Hayne, eighteen."

Ambrose seemed satisfied for the time being, and once again his eyes slid over us as if we were on full display. I didn't stop myself from the knee jerk reaction of crossing my arms, but I did wish that my hair was out of the long braid so I could have something to hide my face behind. Ambrose laughed, as if my uncomfortable acknowledgement to his wondering eyes was amusing. I tried to inconspicuously spy Jackson's reaction, but was interrupted by our mentor.

"Alright, alright!" The blonde man said with a hint of irritation in his voice when the silence became too tension filled. "We're just getting off on all kinds of the wrong feet here. You gotta get used to people lookin' funny at you, sister. Trust me; it'll be a lot worse tomorrow. And you-" he pointed at Jackson, but paused when Olivia swept back into the room all prim and tidy from the heat we had walked out of. I thought I saw him roll his eyes toward her, but I couldn't be certain. "you're gonna need to not be so hostile and uptight. I swear boy-".

He never finished his sentence because Jackson cut him off with an angry glower and a snapping tone. "The girl sitting next to me is one of my best friend's little sister." Olivia put a slender hand to her mouth while Ambrose sighed and closed his eyes at the declaration. I looked to the black haired youth, wanting to find words to calm him down from the sudden venom. No wonder he had been acting so different; he was really taking everything… _'Like he should take it, idiot.'_ The aggravating little voice was right. While I was hoping for just a few more days of semi-ignorance, he had been stewing. And he wasn't finished. "His only sister. So I apologize in advance if I'm not as loose and carefree as you want me to be." His accent had thickened dramatically in his anger; his fists clenched so tights I thought his knuckles would burst from the skin.

"Jackson, it's alright." I tried, placing my hand on his stiff shoulder in an attempt to calm him from his anger, but he shrugged me off with a quick glare that softened to defeat. Extremely out of character.

"No. No it's not Fawn." I wanted to say something to prove him wrong but words failed me. It was selfish to want something to stay the same when we were so close to being thrust into an arena full of bloodthirsty others. So much for the _'It's going to be alright'_ prayer that had been continuous the past couple of days. So instead of finding a voice for needless words I dropped my head and let my hands fall to my lap.

Finally, Ambrose sighed again and started to speak just as Olivia went to. "That's damn bad luck."

"Who's ready for the reaping recaps?!"

Our mentor huffed at the woman, his hazel eyes narrowing at her before he looked back in our direction and motioned for us to stand up. I did, and looked to Jackson to see if he would even bother to raise himself. Surprisingly he did, with a somewhat calm look on his face. He spared me a glance before moving around me to follow Olivia as she walked out of the room. I stared at his retreating back until the automatic door swished shut and blocked my view. Ambrose put a comforting hand on my shoulder, squeezed it, and led me to where they had disappeared to. I guess he wasn't so bad after all.

I had seen the actual reaping's every year, usually about three hours after we all got home. I had always been thankful that most of the faces that I saw were ones that I didn't know. This time I would see myself walk up the stairs as a tribute to the Hunger Games. I swallowed nervously in between Ambrose and Jackson. Olivia sat, back ramrod straight of course, in a chair that was near the couch with her legs elegantly crossed at the ankles.

As Caesar Flickerman's and Claudius Templesmith's voices began introducing the events that were about to take place in that insufferable, happy talk show host way that I had been brought up to disdain I turned my head to the left to look at Jackson. Since we had sat down a few minutes ago he hadn't said a word or even made a motion to at least look at me. He just sat tense and seething.

"Now there's a girl who knows she's gorgeous." Olivia's voice broke through my concentration on staring at the side of my district partner's head. I turned to see what she was talking about, instantly knowing what she meant. The recap had started, and the female tribute from district one was smirking cockily at the crowd and cameras and when her male counterpart showed up next to her, he wasn't much different. Ambrose made a _hm_ sound before looking at Jackson and I.

"Do either of you know what they are?"

I had a vague idea, but it was Jackson who answered, finally interacting again. "They're careers, right? They've actually trained for the games."

Ambrose nodded, his expression serious as Caesar and Claudius commented on the confidence of the district one tributes. "That's right. They get sent to academies young; by the time they volunteer they're as deadly as rattlers. Districts one, two and four: those are the ones you need to watch out for the most." Jackson's eyes narrowed on the screen as the fading images of the tributes disappeared before the camera showed the crowds of district two.

"They didn't seem too bad." He murmured under his breath, soft enough that I doubted our mentor heard him. I barely did, but there was an unmistakable dangerous quality to his words. I didn't like it. I didn't want to come to terms with the fact that Jackson was very easily turning into a killer before my eyes. I remembered a time when Jonas first brought him to our home. He was tall and growing into muscle at fourteen with spiked about black hair and shiny silver eyes. I had been enamored, a silly twelve year old school girl crush on my older brothers friend. But then the both of them started to really get into the opposite sex and liked to be around the pretty girls their own age and it faded back until I held him at nothing but a friendly level.

But now, to see him ever so briefly sizing up the competition, brought a chill to my spine. Thankfully, the district two's escort was calling out the female name. I believed it started with a _C_, but I couldn't be sure. She wasn't as insanely beautiful as the district one girl, but her dark hair shined with a healthy gleam and her steps were precise with stealthy grace. She was confident, extremely so, and her eyes held a dark, sinister gleam. Then it was the boys turn. The districts flamboyant looking male escort hardly got the first couple words of the name out before a loud rough voice called out. "I volunteer!"

"Not surprising." Ambrose said softly, staring at the screen intently. The camera captured the crowd parting as a… well, the easiest way to explain him was monstrous. It wasn't only that he was tall, with broad shoulders and arm muscles that appeared to nearly burst out of the long sleeved dress shirt he wore. No, it was the savageness of his smirk and the excitement that leaked from his prowling gait. He was happy; happy to be giving the opportunity to kill for his district. The thought caused goose bumps to creep across my flesh. Olivia said something, but I didn't hear her. I didn't bother to ask her to repeat herself either.

Watching myself get reaped was hard. Seeing the unadulterated fear in my strange, different colored irises caused a prickling sensation behind my eyes. What was worse was how they picked up on where my gaze had landed in the sea of relieved faces. Now all of Panem would see how my brother, angry tears in his eyes, being held back by the arms of his friends. I felt Ambrose's stare, even though his hazel orbs were hooded by his fringy hair. "The brother, I take it?" I swallowed, then nodded in affirmation.

I heard him, again, murmur "Damn bad luck."

* * *

Dinner had been an interesting affair solely based on how much there was to eat. The delicious steaks that were offered were a rarity in the district. We usually got tough little patties of hard meat, and dried out vegetables. Here it was all fresh, tender and juicy. I wished I could send some home, so everyone else could have a taste of capitol life, but that wasn't going to happen. I, usually, wasn't starving but I knew without a doubt I wasn't as well fed as those career girls.

And now, after stepping out of my first ever shower I could see the truth. I didn't look harshly malnourished, but my body wasn't exactly delightful to look at either I'd wager. It was the first time I had seen myself so clearly, looking into the train's big mirror stationed above the sink. My light golden skin didn't hold any shine, and my dark hair was lank. My arms only held a slight amount of muscle tone, and my hip bones were prominent. My chest wasn't big, but it wasn't small either. I guessed it would look better if I wasn't so thin. All in all, I wasn't particularly satisfied with my body.

I turned away from the mirror and the lavished bathroom to the equally extravagant bed. It wasn't right. I should have been in a small, darker room in a small bed watching Jonas sneak out for a girl. I should have been taking Cheza's blanket from the hanging line so she could lay on something clean. I should be hearing Colt's snores as he passed out from a hard day's work. Instead I got the nearly inaudible rumble of the train as it hastily approached its destination.

I cried some more that night. It was soundless, the sniffles and whimpers covered by the silken pillow case. When I was done I flipped it over, the dark stains making me upset with myself for the lack of composure. My sleep was deep and dreamless and for that I was thankful.

.


End file.
